


An Eye for an Eye

by russiansimp



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Damn, Eye Color Trope, Fate, Fire Nation, Firebending, Heterochromia, Hurt/Comfort, I am cruel, I haven’t watched book two in like 10 years, I made Zuko’s scar bigger, I write this for your entertainment, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Nationalists, Past Child Abuse, Soulmate AU, Soulmate Heterochromia, Soulmate Pain, Sparring, Zuko's Scar, a nurse wrote this, and FREE nonetheless, and it shows, and more medically accurate, but I still write predominantly in book two, but not really, damn amirite, im sorry, is it ‘offense’ or ‘offence’, it gets so frustrating, sexual tension during fights, shared pain, so I shall write what I please, soulmate dreams, srsly, sue me, vaguely canon, yes im writing more blue spirit, you can’t stop me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25213729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/russiansimp/pseuds/russiansimp
Summary: Though everyone was born with one odd eye, it hardly ever made a visible difference. Due to the fact that few people actually would ever leave the place of their birth, they usually shared the same eye color as their eventual soulmate. Water Tribe members fell for people they grew up with, those with the same vibrant cerulean eyes as their own. This was especially true of the Southern Water Tribe, which was much smaller and more disconnected from the outside world than their sister tribe. For the most part, if you were born there, you stayed there, and your soulmate was in the same situation.However, when the word got out that the color of the chief's son's soulmate’s eyes were gold… excitement turned into fear. No matter how much anyone wanted to deny it, gold eyes were a trait exclusive to the people of the Fire Nation. And, of course, seeing their future chief with such a trait was terrifying.Especially once Chieftess Kya was murdered in a Fire Nation raid.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 135
Kudos: 1144





	1. Phantom Pains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY FRIEND AND I CAME UP WITH THIS AU WHILE TALKING ABOUT THE WITCHER AND BOTH LOST OUR SHIT, OK?

Though everyone was born with one odd eye, it hardly ever made a visible difference. Due to the fact that few people actually would ever leave the place of their birth, they usually shared the same eye color as their eventual soulmate. Water Tribe members fell for people they grew up with, those with the same vibrant cerulean eyes as their own. This was especially true of the Southern Water Tribe, which was much smaller and more disconnected from the outside world than their sister tribe. For the most part, if you were born there, you stayed there, and your soulmate was in the same situation.

So, when news began around the small community that the Chief’s first son had telltale foreign heterochromia, it was… exciting. Not much had been happening lately. Food was plentiful, the tides were predictable, and all in all there was no trouble to gossip about.

However, when the word got out that the color of the boy’s soulmate’s eyes were gold… excitement turned into fear. No matter how much anyone wanted to deny it, gold eyes were a trait exclusive to the people of the Fire Nation. And, of course, seeing their future chief with such a trait was terrifying.

Sokka really didn’t understand the big deal. When he finally bothered to ask, he had just finished playing with Katara for the night. The two were thoroughly tired from their play-fight, but he wasn’t tired enough to pass up the opportunity.

It was spurred by a teenager Sokka didn’t quite know outside of knowing his dad worked with Hakoda. He’d said some things the five-year-old didn’t know if he was allowed to relay, and he didn’t quite know what any of it meant. But he’d said it as mean as he could muster, so Sokka assumed it had to be mad.

“Momma,” he had begun, holding his fur to his chest, “why is my eye weird?”

“...I’m sorry?” Kya asked, looking up.

“My eye,” he frowned. He pointed up at his right eye, the one flushed yellow. “Why isn’t it like my other eye?”

“It’s…” Kya sighed, setting down whatever she was working on. “It’s something you’ll learn when you’re older, sweetie.”

“No,” he whined. “Please, momma?”

They stared at each other for a while, but she finally broke. She let out a heavy sigh, looking down. “Have you heard of soulmates, Sokka?”

“Like you and dad?”

“Yes, like me and dad. It’s who you fall in love with and marry, you know?” She smiled softly, holding his cheek gently. “To help us find them, the spirits show us things to identify them. One of the things they do… they give you an eye that matches theirs.”

“So my wife has yellow eyes?” He asked, grinning.

“Her eyes look just like yours,” Kya hummed. “She has a blue eye for you, just like you have a yellow eye for her.”

“Why does she have yellow eyes though? I’ve never seen anyone with yellow eyes.”

“People from the water tribes all have blue eyes. Because me and your dad are both from the water tribe, you can’t even tell we have it.”

“What do you do then? You can’t find them if they look normal…”

“There are other things. You won’t ever have to deal with them until you’re older.”

“What other things?” Sokka nagged.

“Well,” she tapped her lips. “You feel their boo-boos if they’re really bad. Sometimes you see their memories in your dreams. All kinds of things. Don’t worry, though, you’ll figure it out easy. Yellow and blue isn’t something you see a lot.”

“Where do you find people with yellow eyes, momma?” He mumbled, closing his eyes and leaning against his mother.

“I don’t know,” she lied. “Don’t worry, baby. You’ll figure it out. I think it’s time to sleep, okay?” She cooed.

“I’m not tired!” He protested.

“Sure you are, sweetheart.”

No one wanted to tell him who had yellow eyes.

Especially once Chieftess Kya was murdered in a Fire Nation raid.

Hakoda was intent on keeping the nature of his wife’s death secret. They knew she’d been killed by the captain of the invading troop, but that was all that was told.

That was the day Sokka began covering his left eye, covering the telltale gold of the enemy. He made sure there was always a chunk of hair loose from his wolftail so no one would see it, so it appeared that both of his eyes were blue like most of the tribe’s people. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat responsible for his mother’s death—not like he would admit it, though. His little sister was handling it hard enough, he couldn’t bring any of that pity onto himself.

That was the first of many problems his tenth year of life would bring.

It had been a month since that fateful January. Though Kya’s death left a smear on the life of the tribe, they did their best to return to normalcy. Sokka was out with a handful of other warriors to fish. They had found a good amount of food, at least a week for the entire village. It was weighing down the boat to the point that all six of them had to paddle against the faint wind. The men cracked jokes, laughed, though Sokka seemed hesitant to even laugh. One of them noticed, reaching over to gently punch his shoulder.

“Hey, kid, you doing okay?” He asked. Sokka jumped, snapping to attention.

“What? Yeah. Yeah, all good,” he assured, though it was clear it wasn’t true. “I’m just tired.”

“You had a tough day,” the man encouraged. “You definitely deserve a nice nap. Make sure you eat some of this, though. It’s best when it’s freshly caught.” Sokka smiled, finally genuine.

“I wanna make Katara some soup,” he hummed.

“You’re a good brother,” the man jumped, looking up to continue on with the navigation home.

The night was rough, not much good happening after dinner. As Sokka prepared for bed, he pulled his hair out to rinse his face. He slicked back his hair, looking up into the roughly polished silver that they used as a mirror. He stared into the eyes of his reflection, frowning deeply. He reached up to cover his left eye, staring for a moment.

He never wanted to look at it. He had to wonder if his soulmate hated it too.

—

Prince Zuko was taught very quickly what his blue eye meant, and how disgraceful it was. It represented his inherent weakness, his inability to lead properly, that damned softness that his father despised. He was made to be ashamed of it before he could even comprehend what it represented.

Azula always boasted about her lack of it. That she was destined to marry someone as powerful, as cold, as _disgusting _as she was. But, after all, that would make for a good Fire Lord. No love in her heart to spare for the lesser. Just like Sozin, just like Azulon, just like father.__

His mother always assured him, though, that it wasn’t a bad thing. It meant he could bring people together, that his soul was unique enough that it was complemented by someone so different. But, the few reassuring words she gave him weren’t much to drown out everyone else’s distaste for the trait. Sometimes the prince wondered, if he wasn’t born with that trait, if his father would treat him differently. It always seemed to create a prejudice towards his sister, out of his own favor. He wondered if he was destined to be the lesser child no matter his other half. Though he tried to deny it, he often agreed with the latter. He had a nasty affinity for empathy and kindness, much to Ozai’s chagrin. And his mother seemed to help facilitate it, to help that part of him grow. No matter the pressure, the cruelty, the _abuse _his father forced upon him hoping it would stamp it out, he seemed to be pathologically… kind.__

And once Ozai realized that, realized he wasn’t able to mold Zuko into what he wanted him to be, he decided on the unthinkable. To many fathers, the very idea of letting his son die was terrifying. But to him, the concept of killing his firstborn seemed justified. It would feasibly remove the issues that came around the future of the nation, around the succession of the throne, if there was no crown prince, there was a crown princess. And that crown princess was her father’s daughter.

Just like Zuko was his mother’s son. Ozai should have suspected she would at at least try to intercept his plan to end his son. But he hadn’t even thought of it, it hadn’t been a concern.

Zuko only remembered the whole ordeal faintly. He woke to the canopy of his bed in flames, his mother desperately patting it out. “Mom?” He asked, his voice heavy with restless sleep. “Mom, what are you doing?”

There had been tears streaming down Ursa’s face as she smiled down at the prince. “Oh, you’re awake,” she had croaked. “My dear son…”

The last memory of his mother was in that flaming bedroom, her hand on his cheek. Though he was in immediate danger, he had never felt safer than in his mother’s arms that night. In the morning, he was none the wiser to the assassination attempt he’d been put through by his own flesh and blood. He hadn’t realized until sundown that Ursa was gone. He hadn’t put the pieces together for a long time, when his father had tried to end his life again.

—

Sokka’s dreams had been weird lately. He remembered something about dreams and soulmates his mother had mentioned, but it was fuzzy. He couldn’t quite remember it after so many years. But the images he saw at night were wholly foreign. Hot and red, an overwhelming sense of panic. He wasn’t too sure what it meant, but the mildly concerning dreams soon faded into terrors. The worst one had been on the eve of his thirteenth birthday. He didn’t remember much of it. Just blurry faces, heat, and _pain _. He’d woken up screaming, holding both his hands over his left eye. It felt like the time he’d let the flames of the cooking fire lick at his wrist, but so much worse. It had dragged Hakoda from his meeting two igloos over, panicked and fearful. To see his son curled up in his blankets, so clearly in pain, it broke his heart.__

“Sokka?” He asked, rushing to his side. He held his shoulders gently. “Sokka, what’s wrong? What happened?” He gently pried Sokka’s hand away from his face, frowning some. The skin was mottled and red, inflamed from the pain of an injury that wasn't there.

“I— I don't know,” Sokka whimpered, replacing his hand quickly. “It burns!”

“I—it burns?” Hakoda could swear he felt his heart stop. “Like, stings?”

“Like _fire _,” Sokka spat. He didn't see the horror on his dad’s face. He didn't want to. He didn't want to know what it meant.__

So he wouldn't.


	2. Bandages and War Paint

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. me? crying while writing? perhaps.

“Just because there was a flare, from our _own ship _, I must add, does not mean anything, Prince Zuko.” Iroh had been spattering similar sentiments ever since the prince had altered their course to the Southern Water tribe. To watch his nephew like this was miserable. Iroh had been telling himself these last three years, that Zuko needed to come to the conclusion this whole hunt was useless and fruitless, on his own.__

“It’s something,” Zuko spat, brooding on the capsaft at the front of the ship. He had just re-wrapped his eye, a stubborn habit he still kept even though the wound was healed. It wasn’t like he could see out of it anyways, so it made no difference to cover it or not. It hurt his uncle to still see him hide it after all these years, though. It proved that his father had made his point upon burning it.

IT stayed relatively quiet as the ship approached the chunk of ice that the Southern Water Tribe called home. There was smoke from a dead fire rising from the center of the village. “How pathetic,” Zuko muttered to himself. As the anchor dropped, a tad late, the heated steel of the ship split through the edge of the ice and the wall of the village as easy as a sharp blade. There was a single warrior braving the front of the village, which actually roused a cocky laugh from the prince. The boy barely made it out of the way as the draw of the ship fell.

As Zuko and his men began down the path to the ground, the warrior made an attempt to jump him from the side. Zuko paused, stepped back, and caught the boy’s machete on his gauntlet to trip him. He then kicked his foot up to fling him into the softened snow the ship had caused. A dull pain reared itself in the back of the Prince’s head, and he attributed it to the boy’s shattering scream. He raised his hand to his helmeted head, sighing gently. “Some cavalry you all have,” he muttered. He returned his hands to his back, clasping them together as he approached the rest of the village, all women and children.

“Where are you hiding him?” Zuko asked, his voice cold enough to rival the snow beneath his feet. No one gave an answer, not so much as breathing in fear. “I _know _you’re hiding him, tell me where before you regret it.”__

When he _still _received no answer, he clicked his tongue in disappointment. He held his fist to his chest, taking a breath before flinging it out around him. It created a semicircle of flame, forcing the village to step back. The children screamed, but Zuko found he didn’t care.__

Perhaps his father really _had _broken him, after all.__

There was a moment of silence. Behind him, that damned boy pulled himself out of the snow, grabbing his discarded weapon and charging at the prince. The guards didn’t move, taking sadistic joy in seeing how he flew after Zuko sidestepped him. He punctuated it with a plume of flame, causing the warrior to scream and roll out of the way. In a last ditch effort, sokka threw his boomerang, which missed. Zuko grinned a bit, watching it disappear.

When he turned back to the boy, he had procured a spear made of bone and stone. He charged at Zuko, who simply crossed his arms to catch the weapon and snap it in half. Just after the snapping of bone, though, the prince stopped in his tracks. The warrior’s hair blew aside, revealing his eyes.

Which were gold and blue, just like his own.

Sokka saw the visible fear that overtook the other’s face. It made him all too cocky, and he charged again. He was met with a whip of flame biting into his arm.

Which Zuko felt just as palpably on his wrist.

“Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. He would just have to convince himself none of that just happened. He was here for a reason. And that wasn’t it.

Sokka got one more hit, even as he laid aside on the snow. His boomerang circled back around, hitting zuko in the head. It made him stumble forward, knocking his helmet off. He hissed under his breath, forming two flaming daggers in his hands to turn on the other. But he thought better of it, letting them disappear.

Besides, there was something just a bit more pressing: stepping aside to narrowly avoid the penguin and the boy on its back sliding rapidly towards him. It sprayed his guards and the villagers alike with snow.

“Hi, Katara!” the boy chirped. “Hi, Sokka!”

The warrior rubbed his head, frowning. “Hi, Aang. Uh, thanks for coming back.”

“No problem! My fault anyways,” he hummed happily. Aang swiped his staff around, blowing snow onto the guards. He then brought a direct blow on the prince himself. And, he had to admit… watching Zuko melt it off, glaring at him… it was scary. “Uh… looking for me?”

“ _You’re _the airbender? You’re the avatar?!” he spat.__

__

__“Uh… maybe?”_ _

—

“What happened back there, Nephew?”

“ _Lots _of things happened, uncle. Be more specific,” Zuko hissed. His clothes were steaming as he sat before his candles to meditate.__

“While you were fighting that boy,” he clarified. “You stopped.”

The candles flickered out. Something happened that was surely a rarity, that Iroh had only seen a few times since his banishment. Zuko’s hardened façade dropped. He opened his mouth, though it closed after a second of silence. He sighed, slowly reaching to untie the bandage holding the gauze to his head. He let the bandage dropped to his lap, gently touching the scarred skin. “That boy…” he whispered.

Iroh knew what he was going to say just from that. But he still waited for him to do so himself.

“I think he was my soulmate,” he whispered, his throat dry. “He… he had my eyes. And… and I felt it when I hurt him.” his uncle stayed quiet. “Does… that doesn’t happen, does it?”

“What doesn’t happen?”

Zuko swallowed, closing his eyes. “My soulmate should be a woman, shouldn’t… that’s not natural.”

“Sure it is, my nephew.” Iroh sat down beside Zuko. “It isn’t as common, but it’s natural.”

“I’m starting to think Agni just messed me up when it comes to this. My soulmate shouldn’t be some peasant boy from the lesser water tribe. Father didn’t marry his soulmate.”

“And who would you marry, then?” Iroh asked.

“Mai,” he responded, quickly and resigned. “I mean, we love each other,” debatable, “She’s Fire Nation, she’s a noble, and I can have an heir with her. That seems a lot more perfect than…” he shook his head, beginning to replace the bandage.

“I suppose. But… that sounds a lot like marrying for convenience, not for love.”

“Father didn’t marry for love.”

“I don’t think my brother’s marriage was exactly a model one, Nephew.”

“He’s the Fire Lord. He does things for his country, and I will too, when I’m on the throne.”

“If you say so,” Iroh sighed. “Go to sleep, nephew. The men and I will begin mapping the Avatar’s route so we can get going once the ship is in working order.”

“Thank you,” Zuko sighed, tightening the bandage. “I will.”


	3. Parry This, Filthy Casual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me??? Chaptering memes? Ha

The Blue Spirit was a relatively odd character, Aang had come to figure out. He thought for sure, that after he had been found out, he would become a threat. Rather, he and the prince under the mask had seemed to stay completely separate people. The Blue Spirit was a helping hand, a silent guardian, and Prince Zuko was a hunter. Both the predator and the prey.

Though, he had been seeing more of Blue these days. Almost as if Zuko had given up. He knew that wasn’t true, of course, but it felt like it. Not that he was complaining— not in the slightest. On nights like these, he would come bearing extra firewood, along with some meat for the siblings. It was always wordless. Occasionally, Aang could coerce him to sit down and talk, but he had a feeling tonight wouldn’t be one of those nights.

The wood and bundle of meat hit the ground before the Spirit did. Sokka screamed, backing away from the fire when the bundles landed. “Are those dead bodies?!” He screamed.

“Those are supplies,” Aang called. “Blue?” He asked.

He followed the supplies soon, landing with his foot just about in the fire. Aang Offered a wave, which wasn’t returned. The spirit simply began unwinding the wood, tossing them into the fire one by one.

“So, Blue,” Aang began. “Any news on patrol tonight?” He asked.

The spirit shook his head.

“Good, that’s good. Gonna stay for dinner?”

Another shake.

“Come on man, you brought the food,” Sokka eventually mumbled. Blue visibly stiffened, glancing over to Sokka. He was going to keep denying, but… he couldn’t say no to him. And he hated it. He sighed, nodding a little. He made sure he didn’t look the other in the eyes, not wanting to think about it. Aang shot him a knowing look, which he made a pointed effort to ignore.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met, Blue,” Katara hummed, sitting up and folding her arms. “Aang speaks about you a lot, though. I’m Katara,” she hummed, sticking her hand out to shake his. The grin of the kabuki mask stared back at her, hollow and… distasteful. He didn’t shake her hand. Once she realized it was fruitless, she slowly took it back, looking away and clearing her throat. “Right. Uh, you know my name, don’t you?” He nodded. “Sorry.”

“Well,” Sokka announced, clapping a hand over Blue’s shoulder. The spirit flinched, and on reflex, ducked below him and turned on his heel. He grabbed his swords from their spot on his back, holding them out defensively. Sokka’s eyes widened, the boy stepping back and holding his hands up. “Woah, hey man—” he began. “Come on, dude, all’s well, you can put down the swords.” Blue didn’t follow those instructions for a while, but when he did shove the dao back into their sheath, he didn’t seem to relax at all. He was still prepared for some kind of attack. “Dude, I’m not going to hurt you.”

Blue stepped back from Sokka, folding his arms and turning away. He approached Aang instead, tapping his shoulder and continuing into the dark. Aang waved goodbye to the siblings at the silent request before running after blue. They walked in silence for perhaps ten minutes, just to be _sure _they were far enough away, before the spirit abruptly stopped and turned back to Aang.__

“What’s up, buddy?” He asked. As the other removed his mask, he was only met with a simple glare and,

“Don’t call me that.”

Aang nodded. Right. They were not friends. Quite the opposite, in fact. Enemies. Zuko stayed quiet for a few minutes, and the Avatar allowed him that silence. He knew he had to be very careful around the prince, lest he blow up and start a fight. They were far out enough from camp that the others wouldn’t see, so it wasn’t out of the question.

“I’ve got an odd question,” he finally said, folding his arms. There was another stint of deafening silence as he fiddled with his gloves. “Sokka… he’s got a yellow eye?”

“Uh… yes?” He responded slowly, the tail end elating into a question. Where was this going? “Why do you ask?”

It was hard to tell now, when it was milky and blind, that Zuko’s left eye didn’t match. But if you were looking, it was blue as ever. He turned to Aang, pulling down the scarred flesh of his eye to expose more of his iris. The avatar’s lips formed into a surprised ‘o’, just staring for a moment. “I can’t get things messy with pain,” Zuko clarified. He was asking for completely selfish purposes—that was all. Definitely not actually considering the whole… love thing. Just the pain. Only the pain.

“Oh,” Aang seemed to deflate a bit. “Uh, well, it could be a coincidence.”

“No,” Zuko sighed. “The bastard has a habit of hitting his head. It’s a bitch.”

“What’s a bitch?” Aang asked.

“...Right. You’re twelve. It’s a curse word, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head. “And don’t say it.”

“Ok,” Aang shrugged.

“To be clear,” the prince began. “You can blame him for how I’ve been tracking you.” Zuko sat down, rubbing his face. “Be more careful about letting him see landmarks, or something. He dreams about them.”

“I don’t really think I can do that without saying, ‘hey, by the way, your soulmate is Prince Zuko. Good talk.’ You know?” Aang asked, giving almost… a sorry smile. Sorry for himself, or for Sokka? He’d never know. “You said you’ll eat before you go. Is that still on the table?”

Zuko pushed himself to stand, grabbing his mask. “The fire at your camp is weak. I’m surprised it’s cooking anything.”

“Then fix it.”

“You fix it. You’re a firebender too, aren’t you?” Zuko spat as they walked. He always got upset when mentioning Aang’s status, because it just reminded him how fruitless his efforts had been thus far, and how fruitless they would be in the future. Aang knew this— knew that the ire in his words and actions was directed to himself, even if Zuko didn’t. So he didn’t take offense to it.

“I don’t think I’ll be firebending again for a long time,” Aang muttered. “I burnt Katara,”

“Training entails a lot of that. You burn your teacher, you burn your friends, you burn yourself. It’s a part of learning.”

“Is that how you got your scar?” He asked. “You burned yourself?”

Zuko glared at him from beneath the mask. It was just enough to tell Aang he was dead wrong.

“You should teach me,” Aang hummed.

“And help you in your endeavor to destroy my home? I don’t think so.”

“I think getting rid of Ozai would be helping it more than harming it.”

“It would fall into Anarchy. It would be the death of us all.”

“Is that what you’re so desperate to capture me?” Aang asked. “Why don’t you do it now? I always have my guard down whenever you swing by. It would be so easy to—”

“A dishonorable victory is no victory, even if it wins you your prize,” he quipped. “I’m not my sister. I don’t cheat.”

It was quiet for a moment, and just as they reentered camp, Aang finally responded. “I’ll trust you on that.”

—

“What’s it like living in the city?” Sokka asked, shoving Blue gently in the arm.

“He doesn’t talk, you numbskull,” Katara interjected. “I’m sorry about my brother. He’s an idiot.” Sokka feigned offense, a hand on his chest.

“Dear sister, you wound me!” He exclaimed, falling back dramatically. “How am I ever to recover?” The entire show of defense was theatrical, enough to make Blue scoff. “Ever heard of nonverbal communication, Kat? It’s this thing where you read body language. I—”

“He can’t do much without a yes-or-no question, bonehead!”

“...Oh. Yeah, you’re right.” He turned to Blue. “Okay, here. You like living in the city?”

The Spirit shrugged, looking at the fire. Complicated answer.

“Middle ring?” Blue shook his head. “Lower?” He nodded. “Is it as bad as they say it is, with the Dai Li?” Another nod. “Have you ever been caught by the Dai Li?” He shook his head. “Oh, that’s good. You… uh, were you born in the city?” Another shake.

“Sokka, you’re prodding.”

“I’m getting to know him!”

“He’s a _vigilante! _You’re not supposed to know him!”__

“Then why does Aang get to know him?”

“That’s different, and you know it. He’s the Avatar.”

“Actually,” Aang interjected. “He got knocked out and I saw him without his mask. That’s literally the only reason I get to know him.”

“Wait, you know who he is?” Sokka asked. Blue and Aang shared a look, the spirit slowly shaking his head.

“I won’t!” Aang defended. “I’m not mean,” he reasoned. The spirit nodded, seeming satisfied as he lifted his mask slightly to put some food in his mouth. Even from that tiny exposure, Sokka caught what looked like a scar trailing his upper lip, curling it up on the right. _Bad knife fight, _he thought.__

“Fine, ok, I’ll shut up,” Sokka huffed, folding his arms and sticking his share of food onto the fire. 

—

The night was easy. Aside from blue, everyone was cracking jokes and playing around. Occasionally, they roused a laugh from blue. They were raspy and dry, like he’d be breathing in smoke his whole life. Maybe he worked in a profession that provided a lot of it. A blacksmith? That would be awesome. His dao did seem to be hand-forged.

“Hey, man, if you got a minute,” Sokka hummed. “We should spar. Aang says you’re good in combat.” Blue glanced to Aang, who just shrugged with a smile that said, _‘whoops’ _. He stayed still for a little bit, but eventually shrugged, nodding. “Epic!” Sokka punched the air.__

“He’s going to beat you,” Katara warned her brother.

“Getting my ass kicked by the blue spirit? I’ll take it,” he grinned dumbly, grabbing his machete and rising to stand. Blue rose after, sighing softly. All good. He just had to make sure Sokka didn’t hit him hard enough that it would copy itself. Fine. Just dodge. Play it safe. Keep distance. He walked after him, unsheathing his dao and separating the blades.

They walked a little bit away from the camp, where they wouldn’t knock each other against trees and other obstacles. “Don’t hold back on me,” Sokka taunted.

And damn, he didn’t. He narrowly missed a blade in his shoulder as soon as he was comfortable. He yelped, dodging away before grinning. The two threw blows for a while. While it was apparent that the Blue Spirit had been training for years on end, Sokka had a fair amount of determination. Neither of them were going to give up easily.

Sokka threw an overhead cut down towards the other. It hit crossed blades, stopping his machete in its path. The spirit groaned under the pressure, stepping his back foot out to keep him stable. Sokka did his best to bring down the blade, but it was stuck pretty well where it was.

His eyes flitted up to the darkened eyes of the kabuki mask. If he stared long enough, he could see the boy’s real eyes. One of them was deformed, on the same side he saw the scar warping his lip. They conveyed something close to fear, if he was honest. And then he noticed the color.

Sokka let go of his machete, stumbling backwards. The sudden loss of tension caused the spirit to stumble back.

“...Nice parry,” he managed.


	4. Nightmares and Flare Guns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter because I'm still dealing with cult snit :)

“So, like… the Blue Spirit, yeah?” Sokka asked, leaning against Appa as Aang fed him. “You know who he is under there?” It had been on his mind the whole night. As much as that look into his eyes had revealed, he felt like there was a lot more that just raised questions. So, _so _many questions. He was fire nation— what was he doing in the city? Why was he attacking who he was attacking? Was he a deserter? A traitor, a rat? What was all that disfigurement from? Maybe he had been in the military, or maybe he had disrespected a soldier. Then there was the idea that perhaps Blue was his soulmate, but how likely was that? How many people from the Fire Nation had a blue eye? And how likely was it that the one person he was connected with was so close? Then there were the implications of him being a boy, and the other also being a boy. It wasn’t unheard of, but definitely not common.__

“I’m not telling you,” Aang said definitively. He knew exactly what Sokka would ask, even if he wasn’t aware of exactly why. He was not going to be a catalyst of any further violence between the two. There was a fleeting thought about how it could aid the endeavor, that maybe it could make an ally out of the prince. But the risks outweighed the rewards here.

“Oh, come on! Please, Aang?” He whined, clasping his hands together in a pleading manner. “What’s the worst that could happen? I probably don’t even know the guy.”

“He told me in no uncertain terms not to tell you,” Aang sighed. Despite his development placing him at twelve, there were many times that he acted several years beyond that. Sokka supposed that being the avatar would force you to mature rapidly, especially since Aang found out at such a young age. Or… it was just Roku taking over. You could never be too sure.

“What if they were a little uncertain?”

“By name,” Aang sighed in exasperation. “No uncertain terms, Sokka.” He didn’t have to look to the warrior to know he was pouting indignantly.

“Can you at least tell me _about him _? Like… what does he do? Is he a bladesmith? I've got a feeling he’s a bladesmith.”__

“He isn’t a bladesmith.”

“His swords are crazy nice, though! He definitely can't afford them if he’s in the lower ring.”

“You forget that he’s a criminal, Sokka. He could have stolen the money for him— man, he could have just stolen the swords. He kills a lot of high profile people.”

“I… guess. Yeah, I guess. Woof, I totally forgot about that. He’s got some nice swords, though…”

“Now please, Sokka, quit asking. I’m not going to tell you anything that will expose his identity. If he wants you to know, he’ll tell you himself.” Aang fed the bison the last of the food, patting his nose. “Ok?”

“I’ll figure it out,” Sokka announced, folding his arms. “Watch me.”

“I’m sure…” Aang sighed, waving him off. “Why are you so interested, Anyways?”

Sokka turned up his nose. “Aw, don’t give me that condescending tone. I know you know—Mr. Avatar.”

“It’s still polite to ask,” he shrugged. “And no, I’m neither confirming it nor denying it.”

“So you know, though? You know.”

“I never said that. Listen, Sokka. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you. It would be up to you two to figure it out. So, what I’ll say, is that if you _really_ think it’s viable, which, on its own, I would think about, I’d recommend _you_ figure it out yourself.”

“You weren’t like that with Katara!”

“Katara is different. We knew for sure within like, ten minutes. You have matching eyes, go figure. But you haven’t had any shared pain, any shared dreams, I mean, have you even ever had a soulmate dream?”

Sokka’s joking manner dropped immediately. He seemed to deflate, crossing his arms over his chest. “Dreams?” He laughed weakly. “You could call them that. Only nightmares.” He went quiet for a moment, not looking up to meet Aang’s eyes. “Whoever they are, I really feel bad for them.”

Aang set down his basket, furrowing his brows. “Sokka…” he mumbled. “Wanna tell me anything about it, or…?”

Sokka sat down with a sigh, looking up to Appa. “The first one was mixed with pain. It felt like fire on my face. And it was all really blurry, just fire and screaming. Then they were… different, mostly cold, just an overwhelming feeling of guilt and hatred and…” he shook his head. “I’ll wake up sweating, feeling like I’m drenched in seawater or something. Like when I’d fall out of the fishing boats. I don’t know, it’s weird. People in my tribe always told me about dreaming nice memories, picnics, sometimes flowers and stuff. But mine always seem to be metal, sometimes I feel like I’m drowning, or…” he shook his head.

“Dude…”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “The pain isn’t often, but when it comes, it’s bad. Lots of stabs, I think. I don’t wanna think about how many fights they get in.” He looked at his hands. “I guess it would make sense with blue. He gets in fights a lot. I don’t know, it might just be wishful thinking. What’s most likely is a prisoner somewhere. That’s what I thought for a long, long time, a girl in a cell on fire nation soil. I’ve.. always done my best to stay away from pain, so I don’t give them any more pain than they already get…” he looked up, wincing at Aang’s expression. “Sorry, that got really sad! Anyways, thanks for the bits, buddy. I’m going to hit the hay, and we can look at some more maps tomorrow.” He hopped up, giving Aang a wave, and began back to the camp.

Monks above, those poor boys.


	5. They're Sharp, Don't Worry.

The Blue Spirit was just fun to watch, okay? Sokka was in no way stalking him (he totally was) because he thought the guy was kinda hot when he fought (he totally did). No, it was pure coincidence that for the fourth time within two weeks, Sokka was watching Blue beat the asses of six thugs at once. He never once let them get a hit on him, swiftly and expertly dodging every fist, every jab of a switchblade, each and every chunk of rock separated and thrown his way. It was mesmerizing, and Sokka couldn’t help but notice how much more aggressive he was with these random brutes.

One by one, they were picked off, either realizing their mistake and fleeing, or winding up dead at Blue’s feet. Lots of blood. It spattered across the vigilante’s torso, arms, and mask, bright red shining in the silvery light of the moon. Sokka wasn't disgusted by blood, he was a hunter, after all. However, he’d never been so unbothered by it as he was now. The whole scene was artistic, in a way.

Well, artistic until he shifted his weight to his other leg. It made a noise against the coarse dirt of the empty market way, and that sound was enough to get Blue to whip around with a Dao drawn. Next thing he knew, there was a sword in his bicep.

_Shit._

Whenever Zuko had gotten blows on Sokka in their little sparring session, he could just bite his tongue and tough through it. He was expecting it. However, the shooting pain in his own arm, mirroring the wound on the other? That was enough to catch him off guard. “Fuck!” He hissed, dropping the weapon. What the hell was he doing here? And holy fuck, how deep did that cut go? It hurt like hell, and oh, Agni, that was an artery, wasn't it?

“Hello to you too,” he stopped when he heard Blue speak. One, he _could_ talk, he just didn't. Two, the excitement of finding out for sure that yes, this hot as hell vigilante was his soulmate, was drowning out the pain of the sword in his arm. That excitement didn't last long though, when they both collapsed.

 _Think, think, think, you dumb motherfucker!_ Zuko’s head screamed. Okay, okay. The healer they had visited the first time they had been in the city, when his uncle had been poisoned. Okay, great. She wasn't too far from here now, moving closer to the city, and he knew she would be open and awake, because he’d had to come in to get stitches on multiple occasions.

He bit out through the pain, grabbing Sokka’s uninjured arm to drag him away. The warrior was out from blood loss within minutes, forcing Zuko to hoist him up and carry him the rest of the way.

When Sokka came to, he was sore, in some building, covered in blankets. There was quiet chatting from beside him, and when he managed to look over to it, he saw it was the Spirit and a woman making it. Blue had ice on his arm, tied tightly so he could move around his arms. Which was important, as he quickly figured out he was signing to her. Sokka only knew bits and pieces of sign language, things that he’d had to use in hunting and battle, when no noise could be made. He picked up a few words he used, _‘cut,’ ‘sword,’ ‘hurts really bad,_ and something about almost dying, or dying, something like that. The woman could definitely understand it a lot better, responding verbally to everything he was expressing.

“I'm glad you both got here when you did,” she assured him. “That would be such a horrid way to lose your soulmate.”

The spirit merely shrugged, making a few more motions. _‘My life wouldn’t be different, we don’t even really know each other._

“Well, you will soon, won’t you?” she asked, offering a gentle smile.

“Talking about me?” Sokka asked weakly, offering a little laugh.

“Maybe we are,” she chuckled. “Glad you’re awake.” The woman rose to her feet, approaching Sokka in bed. “May I check your sutures, please?”

“You don't need to ask,” Sokka smiled, showing his arm for her to examine. He watched her secure a few loose knots, which hurt like hell, by the way. His eyes flickered up to blue. Gods, he hated that he couldn't read him through that mask. That was the point, of course, but for the love of Tui and La, it made him paranoid. What was he thinking, exactly?

“I'm Song,” the woman added.

“How much do I owe you, Song?” He asked gently.

“Oh, Blue covered it,” she responded.

Sokka looked back to him. “Dude, this kind of care is expensive—you don't have to pay it over.” Zuko rolled his eyes below the mask, scoffing quietly. He was the one that stabbed him, it was the least he could do to fix it. Besides, he knew Sokka couldn't afford a good healer, and he didn't want the ache of another mounting phantom wound during work.

And even if this boy was his enemy, there was that animalistic urge to protect him. He was his soulmate, whether he liked it or not, and he didn't know if he would be able to handle the breakdown of losing him. Not _him_ , specifically, it was the idea of losing the only person in the world that the spirits thought could love him. He just… couldn't. It could be someone he didn't know at all, not even a name. It didn't help that he’d formed that bond just by knowing his name.

He remembered, when he was little, his mother had spoken about how once a person gives a name to an animal or object, it created an involuntary emotional bond to it. He supposed it must have been the same with Sokka. It was the fact that he had caught a glance of him as more than the enemy, he’d caught a glance of him as a person. A boy cracking jokes, annoying his little sister, sparring. Those wispy memories, dreams of scenes around a campfire with what felt like a big family: the smell of good meat on the flame, the feeling of soft fur tickling his face. It was too much— _it was too human_.

“You can talk,” Sokka observed, “I heard you swear. I don't know a ton of that…” he formed his hands nonsensically. Blue scoffed, snapping to get Song’s attention, before forming something to her.

“He says you don't have anything to talk about,” Song informed shortly. “Even though you definitely do…” she clicked her tongue gently. Sokka groaned, sitting up.

“Did you learn sign language just to protect your identity?” Sokka asked. Small talk was hard when there was a mediator, unfortunately. Blue shook his head. He signed some more.

“He’s deaf in one ear,” Song explained. Sokka nodded, looking down. There was some silence, almost unbearable with the tension created. “I’m going to go clean up the front, you two call me if you need anything.”

They were left alone, the door shut gently behind her.

More silence.

A heavy sigh, muffled by his mask.

“I'm sorry for attacking you,” he offered, voice strained. It was… oddly familiar, but Sokka didn't know from where. Probably just his dreams.

“Hey, man, it’s all good. Uh, really my fault for sticking around to watch you fight…” he looked down. “I've got a thing with sword fighting and stuff. You know, non bender and all. Had to one-up Katara somehow, amirite?” He chuckled. “You're… really good, that's what I was getting at.”

Blue stayed quiet for a minute. “...Thanks,” he shrugged, looking away. His cheeks were on fire under his mask.

“Yeah,” he hummed, offering a happy smile. “Man, Katara is gonna kill me for getting myself hurt, huh?” He chuckled. Blue merely shrugged.

“The swords are sharp, it will heal okay,” he assured. “But please, don't get those ripped out, it will hurt like a bitch… I've already got to deal with you hitting your head every other day.” Blue rose to his feet, dusting himself off. “I’ll leave some money with Song. Get back safe,” was all he offered, leaving without letting Sokka get a word in.

Well, how nice of him. After almost cutting his arm off, that was.


	6. Fireside

The next time the Blue Spirit visited, it was rather awkward. There was someone here, this time, who Zuko had never seen—a little blind girl that, if he were honest, scared the shit out of him. Apparently she _had_ been here for his last few visits, just knocked out asleep. Even if she _was_ blind, it always felt as if she was staring at him—past the mask. It was creepy.

He stayed away from her. He stayed with the people he knew. He wasn’t at all _comfortable_ with any of them, but he found himself doubly uncomfortable with the little bandit. He stayed around the fire with Katara and Sokka.

He didn’t ask if his arm felt any better. He knew it didn’t. There was still a throbbing, deep pain in his bicep that made it hard to move. It felt like a particularly bad burn, but not bad enough to melt away the flesh. No outward trauma, just a horrid sensation settling in his bones. He did this to himself, he really wasn’t allowed to complain about it. Besides, it would surely be selfish. Sokka had to deal with the actual injury, with all of its blood and scabbing and danger of deadly infection. He had no right to feel bad about it.

That was how he thought about a lot of things. Someone always had it worse, didn’t they? He gets stabbed, but his attacker dies. He isn’t dead. Things could go worse. So why should he feel bad? He wasn’t _allowed_ to feel bad.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Katara asked. It was directed at her brother, but it made Zuko jump and look over. It felt aimed at him too. But he wasn’t acting odd, not for when he was wearing the mask.

“Nothing,” Sokka shrugged, offering her a smile.

“You’re all weird and quiet.”

“Just thinking.”

“You have a brain?” the blind girl—Toph, he thought her name was? Called from the other side of the camp, making Sokka scoff and roll his eyes.

“Love you too!” He responded, leaning back on his hands. He met eyes with Zuko— _no,_ he reminded himself, _he met eyes with the blue spirit._. He’d found himself having to correct his thoughts often these days. Sokka liked the Blue Spirit, and he knew very well how he felt about _Prince Zuko_. Unadulterated hatred, no doubt. He was staring at the empty eyes of the Kabuki mask, the vague blue and gold hiding behind them. He wasn’t looking at the ugly scarring covering his face, he wasn’t looking at the boy who had been hunting him for months, he wasn’t looking at a ruthless firebender that just about destroyed his village.

His eyes gained an unfocused glassiness, tainting even the blind, milky blue. “Hey,” Sokka’s voice interrupted, causing him to jump. “You okay, bud?” His voice was soft, infuriatingly calming. Zuko hates that he was actually warming up to the kid. It was inconvenient, at best, a liability, at worst.

Rather than a wordless gesture, he just gave a quiet, “Yeah,” voice cracking from disuse. It seemed to catch Sokka off guard. Yeah, he heard him talk at the healer, but that was all alone, and pretty forced. The single word seemed to hold a lot more weight, crackling just like the fire before them.

“Yeah?” He repeated, resting his elbows on his knees. “You sure?”

He nodded a bit, reaching above his mask to scratch his head. Why was he worried? Sure, they were soulmates (if he had to be frank), but they’d only spoken once or twice, met a handful of times face-to-mask. There was really no reason for Sokka to worry about him.

“Mm,” he nodded, turning back to the fire. “You know, you should teach me sign language sometime. So we can talk.”

Zuko had to scoff softly. What made him think they’d be in situations where they could talk? Where Zuko would _want_ to talk?

“Nah, come on! It could be fun.”

It could, he wondered, but it would be doubly more frustrating.

He stayed quiet.

After a few minutes, the Avatar took the girls to go practice bending. Zuko could swear he had seen Aang throw a thumbs up to the boys.

“So~” Sokka hummed, leaning back on his hands. He stared at the Spirit expectantly. There was no answer for a while. “Anything?”

“You’re very insistent,” Zuko finally muttered.

“That, I am!” He sounded so excited. “I can tell you don’t talk much in general, huh? Your voice is all strained.” Zuko only shrugged.

“If you’re going to talk,” He muttered, “sit on my other side. I can’t hear you.”

“Oh!” Sokka scrambled to stand, running around to his right. He sat back down, pulling his legs up beside him. “So your bad ear is on the left.” Another nod. “Were you born with it bad? Or did you lose it?”

There was no answer.

“Got it,” he nodded slowly, looking back at the fire.

Silence, save for the faint noises of the fire.

“So, what was it like in the Fire Nation?” He asked softly. Zuko turned to look at him, hoping his eyes were visible enough that Sokka could see he didn’t want to answer that question. But he just kept staring, expectantly.

“Bad,” he mumbled. “Lots of shit rules and even shittier consequences.”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down. “I guess it would be.”

“It’s really worse than they let it seem,” he sighed. If he was talking about trauma, he could care less about talking too much.

“You ever met the Fire Lord?”

Zuko was quiet for a beat. “Yeah.”

“Is he as bad as I hear?”

“He’s worse,” he mumbled.

“Oh,” Sokka looked away. “You wanna, like… talk about it?”

“No.”

“You know, like, this whole soulmate thing,” he mused. “You’re gonna have to talk to me eventually. I’m gonna end up knowing who you are and what you went through.”

“That’s what you think,” Zuko scoffed, getting to his feet. “With any luck, I’ll be dead before this war is over.”


	7. Bad Breakup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is rushed and I’m sorry for that

“I'm worried about him.”

Aang had never heard Sokka sound so somber and serious when they weren't in an immediately dangerous situation. His voice was shaky, almost, low and…broken. “Why?” he asked simply, looking over to him.

“I… don’t know, I just… I got him to start talking to me, you know? But I think I’m more worried than I was, if that makes any sense? Ugh, I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I think I kinda get it,” Aang shrugged. “Did he say something in particular?”

“I don’t know. I was asking him about the Fire Nation, right? And he just kinda… shut down.”

“I… wouldn’t bring that up, if I were you.”

“Why not?”

“He’s kinda on the fence as to how he feels about them. They kinda brainwashed him, I think. Cause, he does all this vigilante work, killing Fire Nation officials, but then when he talks about his...life there, I guess, he kinda changes his mind. Especially when things about me and the Fire Lord come up, you know? Like, I asked him to actually be my firebending teacher―”

“Wait, he can bend?”

“Yeah, anyways, when I asked him, he said something like, ‘ _Oh, and help you destroy my country?_ ’ So… I’m just not sure how he feels about it all. You know?”

“Huh,” he scoffed gently. “I guess. They do seem like the kind of country to brainwash their people, I guess. He mentioned there’s a fair amount of propaganda.”

“Oh, I bet,” he sighed gently.

“I didn’t know he could bend.” Aang ginned up at him, a little glint in his eye.

“He’s _really_ good. I doubt you'd be able to get him to show you, though.”

“And why do you think that?” Sokka mused.

“About the same reason,” Aang shrugged. “The thing is, he doesn't think he’s good, he actually thinks he’s terrible compared to some people he knows.”

“Huh,” he mumbled, looking down at his hands. “Well, thanks for like… telling me about this, I guess.”

“He’s not much of a talker,” Aang sighed. “Hopefully one day, he’ll open up to you.” 

“Yeah,” he huffed. “I hope.”

—

There was an odd peace that night, knowing he hadn't really done anything wrong. That it was normal. Of course, there was the sadness knowing Blue was going through that, but he supposed he couldn't do anything about that. Not now, at least. Maybe one day.

He didn't sleep any worse than normal. He knocked out beside the embers no problem, holding on to his pillow lying on his stomach. Katara and Aang were on the other side of the dead fire, cuddled close to each other (eugh, oogies) under a handful of blankets. Toph was still awake, or, she probably was.

But everyone was definitely awake when Sokka screamed.

Aang popped up in an instant, running over to figure out what happened. The girls were more or less stumbling over after him, rubbing tiredness from their eyes. Sokka was curled up over himself, clutching his stomach.

Aang _knew_ what was happening. He didn't need to ask, he just propped Sokka up, sighing gently. “Hey, bud. Breathe, come on. You're okay—”

“Fuck, I'm _not_ ,” he hissed, holding his abdomen.”

“Sokka, please don't swear around—”

“Spirits, Katara, let the man swear,” Toph muttered. “What happened? I didn't hear anything—”

“Blue must have lost a fight,” Aang huffed, giving him a blanket to hold on to.

“The vigilante? What do you mean? What does that have to do with this?”

“Oh, for the sake of Tui and La, will someone just go into the city and get him to a healer? He won't take himself.”

“You don't know that,” Aang sighed.

“No, I'm pretty sure…” he shook his head. Aang huffed, looking to Katara.

“Sweetie, take care of him,” he told Katara, “Sokka, do you have any clue where he is?”

“Shit, um, south side of the middle ring, I think? I-I don’t know.”

As Aang gently passed him to his sister, he looked to Toph. “You think you’ve been around him enough to find him?”

“Probably,” Toph nodded, pushing herself to stand. “Come on, Twinkle Toes, we can jack the rail line.”

—

Toph was pretty good at finding people. She could identify steps, breathing, even a heartbeat. They found Blue easy, and dragged him to a healer.

Once he had gotten stitches and a substantial amount of painkillers, they managed to just drag him back to camp. Katara could try her hand at healing him, it was better than nothing, and by gods, Sokka would feel much better knowing he was safe.

Aang knew he would never hear the end of it, how Zuko did _not_ want their help or pity, that he was fine. So, before they were within earshot of camp, he leaned down. “Listen, forget about politics for a minute, we’re caring for you as Sokka’s soulmate, and that’s it. Promise.”

“I don't need your fucking help,” Zuko had hissed, though was gratefully leaning over Aang’s shoulders.

“I know, I know. But you're getting it.”

When Sokka could hear their faint speaking, and see them come into the light of the embers, he managed to sit up and look at them. “Blue! Thank gods, fuck, I thought that would kill you—”

“I'm _Fine_ ,” he grit, huffing as Aang set him down to sit. He winced at the pressure—he definitely wasn’t fine, but he wasn’t about to admit that.”

“What _happened _to you, dude?” Sokka muttered. Zuko sucked in a breath, making a few shaky gestures with his bloodied hands, ones that only Aang knew.__

“Wait, you know him?” He asked. “No, yeah, we’ve met him. Spirits, why on earth would he—oh. _Oh._ Man. Okay. Wow.” He turned to Sokka, giving him an awkward smile. “Remember how you kept trying to tell us that Jet was a bad person?”

“What?” Sokka mumbled. “Yeah, well. Why— wait, don't tell me _that asshole_ is the one who hurt you. Holy shit, if I didn't want to kill him already…” he rubbed his face for a bit. He could guess that Zuko gave him a lopsided smile from beneath the mask, tilting his head slightly.

“Pretty shit way to treat your ex, amirite?” He whispered, a pained grin painted under the wood. Sokka froze, furrowing his brows.

“Tui and La, what is your guys’ infatuation with this scumbag? Why fucking date him? He’s a _fuckboy_!”

“Wait,” Katara put her hands up. “You dated Jet?”

He made a few motions to Aang. “He broke up with him… by stabbing him.” The Avatar laughed uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his head. “Jeez, what a move.”

“Then he was a cheating bastard on top of everything,” she scoffed, shaking her head. “Blue, do you think you can make it to the river? My bending water won't work… the best, you know?”

Zuko nodded, slowly pushing himself up. He only made it because Sokka reached up, pushing him up the rest of the way. He and Katara hobbled over to the shoreline, eventually collapsing to the water. Zuko hissed in pain, hoping to Agni that he didn't create any steam when he landed. Katara didn't say anything, so he had to assume he didn't.

He hated that he felt good as new. He hated that he stooped so low to accept their help, let alone appreciate it. He gave a quick nod of thanks, intending to rush away as per usual.

Of course, he should expect that Sokka wouldn’t let him.

The fire was lit again, and Aang and Toph were in their respective areas.

“Stay for a bit, buddy. I wanna talk.”


	8. Everyone Says That

“What do you want, anyways?”

Zuko didn’t dare speak until he knew everyone else was fast asleep, none the wiser to his quiet words. He had a stirring, nauseous sensation in his gut, that this conversation was going to get really uncomfortably vulnerable, really uncomfortably quickly.

“You got stabbed by your crazy ex, can’t a guy be worried?” Sokka attempted to make a joke of it. He had a bad habit of coping exclusively with humor. “Uhm, but, I don’t know. That seems pretty heavy.”

“He was a piece of shit, I’m not that torn up over it,” Zuko murmured. “He found out…” he gestured vaguely to his right eye. “If he tells the Dai Li, I’m fucked.”

“But they have that whole… no war, thing. They wouldn’t break that peace, would they?”

“For the bounty on my head? Sure, they would. They’d break it a million times. And they’d probably get the reward for me, and the blue spirit, separately.”

“So you’re a war criminal out of the mask, too,” Sokka joked. Zuko stared at him for a moment.

“You have no fucking idea, man.”

“You know, you could stay with us.”

“I couldn’t.”

“And why not?”

“You would kill me too, if you knew who I was.” Sokka would have laughed if his tone wasn’t so serious.

“Dude, you think I’d really kill my soulmate?”

“There are exceptions for people like me.”

“I really doubt that.”

“Trust me on this, Sokka. You’d lose it real fast.” He stared at his hands, sighing gently.

“...You know, I’ll find out eventually. And hey, if Aang is fine with you…”

“The Avatar _tolerates_ me because he believes I can change. If he were less optimistic, and more willing to kill, I have no doubt I’d be dead by now.” He quieted for a moment. Every time he and Aang had met face to face, Zuko tried to kill him, and the avatar spared him. “Maybe it would be better if he weren’t so merciful. He would surely deliver the least painful death among my options.”

“Dude… please, don’t talk like that. That is so messed up, you know that? No one deserves to die. Except like, the Fire Lord. And Jet. I’d kill Jet.” It was actually enough to catch a chuckle from the bandit. “I promise, if you tell me—“

“You know, I’d bet you would deliver a fairly peaceful death, too. You don’t strike me as the sadistic type.”

“...Thank you?” Sokka searched his eyes, what little he could collect from them. “Blue, please. You can trust me. I promise.” He took a breath, looking away. “Even if we haven’t known each other for a super long time, you underestimate how far I’d go to protect you.”

Zuko closed his eyes. The Fire crackled, slowly flickering in the wind until it was nothing but embers and ash. “Leave your machete here,” he instructed softly. “I’m not about to give your sister the chance to see me. Her, I have no doubt she’d kill me on the spot,” he mumbled, gathering himself before getting to his feet.

Sokka sighed, reluctantly following his instructions. It honestly hurt, that he was so sure Sokka would hurt him. But, he guessed, that was what being in the fire nation did to a guy. He probably feared for his life every single day.

They walked for a good ten minutes, until they reached where the brook curved around and began flowing north rather than south. Zuko didn’t light a fire. He wished his scar was bandaged up, but he guessed it couldn’t be helped at this point. Sokka was right, he’d see eventually. He’d see who he was, what he’d done, the marring of his skin and what it stood for.

There were tremors in his hands as he reached up to untie the silk that held the mask to his face. He could hear his own panicked breathing against the polished wood.

He didn’t look at Sokka once it was off. He was on his blind side, but he could feel him staring. He only swallowed thickly, the scar tissue that had joined his ear and jaw tugging. The marred tissue almost shone in the moonlight. Sokka could see the extent of it, now. It crept down below his sweater, so he could only guess how far it went.

Zuko closed his eyes, preparing for a fight, a cry for the others. But that never came. All that came was a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jumped, and violently, at that.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Zuko,” he assured quietly.

“That’s what everyone says,” he scoffed, keeping his eyes trained carefully on the water. He didn’t know why he couldn’t bring himself to look up at him.

“You know, I knew I recognized your voice. But it sounds different when you’re not yelling,” he teased.

Zuko didn’t laugh.

He was far from laughter. He could feel a lump rearing itself in his throat. He knew what was going to happen—everyone wanted him dead. He was sure Sokka was no exception. Sokka would benefit from his death, after all.

Agni, how pathetic. He was about to cry because he had to show his soulmate who he really was.

“I guess it would,” he finally answered.

Sokka felt terrible, hearing the little waver in his voice. He was terrified. It was so weird, to see this boy he thought was an indestructible war machine, so scared. So small.

Now that he thought about it, he probably always felt like that. Why would Ozai parent differently than he ruled? He grew up with that looming presence on his back, ready to kill him for any mistake.

The longer he looked, the more he could recognize the outline of a hand in the center of his scar.

“Jet tried to kill me over finding out I was Fire Nation. Imagine how he would feel if he knew I was the goddamn prince.”

“His opinions are shit, though. And he didn’t. And you’re alive. That’s what matters, right?”

“I guess,” he whispered.

“...Sit down, buddy. You’re probably still in shock, and this probably isn’t helping.”

Zuko followed orders, which honestly surprised him.

“Can…” Sokka began, “can you see out of that eye?”

“No.”

Sokka began to reach out, but thought better of it, once Zuko winced away from him. “It isn’t a coincidence that it was that eye, is it?”

“It isn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“In any case, I don’t want your pity,” he spat.

Ah, there was the Zuko he knew.

“I know you don’t. You probably don’t want anything from me. But I’m afraid you’re not gonna get what you want, your highness.”

“Don’t call me that,” he mumbled.

A beat of silence.

“Are you still trying to capture Aang?”

“I...don’t know,” he mumbled. “I don’t know.”

“Moral dilemma?”

“You could call it that,” he shook his head, folding his arms.

Sokka actually stepped into the water, so he could squat down at him, get a good look at him. Sure, his scar was the most glaring feature. Red and angry, warping and ruining the skin. But he found it didn’t really take away from the features that made it out unscathed. He could see a lot of Ozai in him. The sharp, high cheekbones, the shape of his unscarred eye. But there were lots that ruined the illusion of father and son. He wasn’t so hardened and angry. His brow wasn’t in a perpetual furrow. He still had his youth. He wasn’t all borrowed into this war.

“I normally keep it covered,” Zuko laughed awkwardly. “My uncle hates that I do. Says that it lets my dad win, or something.”

“Why do you feel like you need to cover it, though?”

“I don’t want to make people look at it,” he shrugged. “I don’t… want to make myself look at it.”

“It isn’t that bad, Zuko.”

“You don’t have to look at it every day,” he muttered, a bit of malice in his voice.

“I wouldn’t mind it,” he teased, tilting his head with a gentle smile. “Spend the night at camp, would you? I really don’t want you traveling right now.”

“I’m not a fucking child.”

“Don’t care. Come on, big guy.”


	9. Found You

Zuko didn’t sleep well that night.

It wasn’t because of the cold, really. Not the hard dirt under him, none of that. He had been a sailor, he’d had to spend months sleeping on the steel of a ship being tossed and turned by shit waves. Physically, he’d sleep fine. He should have slept fine.

But his mind was really racing. He wasn’t sure what he was feeling, or why. Was he relieved? Slightly disappointed? One thing he knew, he was _fucking terrified_. Sure, Sokka hadn’t _looked_ like he was lying, he hadn’t _seemed_ dangerous, but if there was anything he knew, it was that he wasn’t good at recognizing liars. Azula had taught him that. Before everything had gone to shit between them, she was telling him how to tell if someone was telling the truth. Little things like darting eyes, rapid blinking, how long they kept their eyes closed between each blink, which way they looked when they avoided eye contact. But Azula didn’t _do_ any of that, that was the thing. She kept perfect cadence, direct eye contact, it didn’t matter. No matter how closely he watched her, he was never sure.

It was one of many things contributing to his terribly debilitating trust issues. He guessed if someone was smart enough, they’d know what to avoid when talking to gain trust, wouldn’t they?

He turned over, lying on his back. He’d replaced his mask, in case Katara woke up before the others. Under the painted wood, he stared up at the stars, sighing gently. His Uncle would probably be worried sick. Zuko always left when he was fast asleep, and Agni, was that man a heavy sleeper. He thought that he perhaps knocked himself out with some tea that wasn’t exactly sobering, some nights. He closed his eyes, tilting his head back. He could see his breath condensing in the cold night air, escaping from the sides of his mask.

He turned back over, facing the dead fire to look at everyone on the other side of the logs. Sokka had made a point to keep far enough away from Zuko that he’d be a little more comfortable. _A little,_ being the operative term, because he was still terrified. He was sure he wouldn’t actually end up falling asleep, and walk back on the teetering edge of passing out from exhaustion, blood loss, and an empty stomach, all conglomerated into a mess of collapsation.

He mostly just watched the stars move. It was slow, obviously, but if he focused hard enough, he could see them creep across the sky until the sunlight masked them almost entirely.

Aang was up first. Zuko almost laughed a bit. He wondered if the Avatar would have those unique little quirks every firebender had without fail, such as rising as soon as the sun shone itself over the horizon. The boy sat up, blinking a few times before looking around. First, to make sure everyone was there, then pushing himself up. He nearly screamed once he noticed the extra body, but ended up settling with a gasp and a stumble back. “You stuck around,” he observed quietly.

“Sokka wouldn't let me leave,” he mumbled, pushing himself to sit up. “Said I _wasn't in proper shape_ to walk back to the city.”

“You didn't even sleep, did you?”

“Nope.”

“Well…” Aang smiled a bit. “I'm going to go meditate. You can join me if you want. Otherwise, I'm giving you permission to leave.”

“...Tempting offer,” Zuko admitted, “but I need to go.”

“The offer stands whenever you need it.” Aang could see the confused look below the wood, gears clicking in his head. The prince couldn't tell if he was offended or grateful. He only shrugged, turning on his heel to make his way back to the city. 

—

Sokka was disappointed to not see Zuko around at all for the next several nights. Aang had noticed him sitting at the edge of camp, just watching, waiting. Hoping blue would show up.

He never did.

Aang definitely had some suspicions when a Sokka disappeared once they got to the city. He had to have a vague idea as to where Zuko was, and the Avatar had a feeling he was about to go find him.

He got sidetracked more than a few times. Spotting little trinkets and such, and with all of the scammed money he’d gotten from Toph, he couldn't just pass them up. Besides, there were quite a few landmarks he didn't recognize immediately. But, slowly but surely, he made his way along the ring, and came to what seemed like a little cafe.

The smell around the shop was familiar. A very specific blend of tea and patchouli and smoke that he guessed he’d found in his dreams. When gently opening the door, he was greeted with the cheery little tinkle of a brass bell. He smiled at it, glancing up to scan the room. There were several patrons playing a board game he didn't recognize, sipping at tea and eating small cakes. It took a minute, but he eventually found Zuko, his eyes carefully trained on a glass thermometer as he brewed a pot of tea.

He approached the counter, watching as Zuko poured the cup and delivered it before he finally noticed the other’s presence. He froze up a bit when he saw him, and Sokka felt terrible for presumably scaring him. He eventually gathered himself, arriving at the counter.

“Hey,” Sokka greeted quietly.

“Hi,” Zuko replied shakily. “What are you doing here?” It May have come out a little more harsh than intended, but…

“Well, came for tea,” he hummed. “Is that okay?”

“Uh,” Zuko swallowed thickly. “Yeah. Sorry, I’m—”

“Anxious, I know. Sorry.” He noted that he’d replaced the bandage over the left side of his face, covering his scar. It almost made him sad, to see him hide it. It really wasn't all that bad. “Can I get a matcha?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Three copper,” he informed.

Sokka dug through the bag on the side of his belt, producing the appropriate coins and handing them to the other. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he repeated, “I'll have it out in a minute.”

Sokka sighed gently as Zuko turned on his heel. He found himself a table,one that was separated from the others, more or less. Once he came over with the drink, he actually spoke. “You got a minute to talk?” He asked, his voice soft.

Zuko uncomfortably looked to the side, before sighing and giving in. He sat down across from Sokka, folding his arms and looking down. “What?”

“Have you been avoiding us?” He asked.

“You have to remember that I'm not with you guys,” he scoffed quietly.

“Still,” he shrugged. “Guess I'm lucky I ran into you, huh?”

“If that's what you call luck,” Zuko rolled his eyes, finally meeting his eyes.

“Believe it or not, I enjoy your company.”

“Terrible decision, really,” he sighed. “If you _really_ need to talk to me, just come by when I'm not working. Like, eleven.”

“I can do that!” He hummed, seeming to perk up just about immediately. “Thank you.”

“If you bring weapons, I'll lay you out.”

“Okay. I can do that. Thank you.”

“Don't thank me until we both make it out of this alive.”


	10. Slowly but Surely

Zuko didn't expect Sokka to take up his offer, to come talk in the city.

But he did.

Of course he did—he seemed incredibly insistent on this whole soulmate thing. He didn't seem to get it, that Zuko was the enemy, that they should be trying to kill each other, that Zuko wouldn't survive the war. But, when the brass bell rang out, distracting him from cleaning up shop, he couldn't help but smile a bit.

“You're really an idiot, you know that?” Zuko mused. “At least when you found me today, there were people around. I could kill you right now, and no one would ever find out.”

“You wouldn't!” Sokka hummed, gently closing the door. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Eh,” he shrugged a bit, placing the last chair up on the table. “Customer service.”

“Customer service sucks,” Sokka scoffed, leaning against the table. “Why do you bother?”

“Pays the bills,” Zuko shrugged, looking away.

“Hm.” Why would he have to work for money? He was the prince, wasn't he? Shouldn't he have an unlimited pool of money? “Where do you stay?”

“In…” he paused, looking away. Should he reveal that? Was that safe? Probably not. “In an apartment above the shop. I'm the only one awake, right now. If you’d rather go up there. It’s a lot less…” he gestured vaguely to the shop.

“Sure,” Sokka hummed. He couldn't help but grin. He felt damn special that Zuko at least trusted him enough to let him up. Zuko looked away, nodding shortly before awkwardly waving him over to the stairs. He didn't say much as they walked up, just leaving the door open for him.

It was a hallway, first, with three rooms. Zuko veered into the left, which was just a bare, wooden room, with two windows,a pile of blankets in lieu of a bed. A handful of empty mugs, abandoned—well, what looked like calligraphy practice (Tui and La, how pretentious did you need to be to practice that? (He couldn't say much. He couldn't write, maybe that was just something people could write did.))—an incense burner with piles of ash below. They’d quickly be added to, as the first thing Zuko did was kneel down and grab another stick to place in the holder. Sokka watched as he stuck his tongue out, rapidly running his thumb against it to create a small flame (gods, was that supposed to be hot? Why was that so hot?). He lowered it to the edge of the resin, allowing it to burn for a moment before putting it out.

He thought he knew this smell, too. From his travels, he now knew that the scent was lotus, but the distinct smell of smoke that mixed with it was… nostalgic, almost. Not many of Zuko’s dreams seemed to be good, but when they were, Sokka could swear the burning lotus was always there.

Sokka sat down, continuing to look around. “Why not tap into that fire-nation-royalty money?”

Zuko scoffed. “Like they'd ever let me.”

“Well, you're the prince, aren't you?”

“ _Was._ They stripped me of my title when I was banished.”

“Wait—banished?” He sounded baffled. Zuko stared at him, furrowing his brows.

“You don't know this?” He scoffed.

“Uh, no?”

“I'm a ‘traitor’,” he punctuated it with air quotes, “and traitors get banished.”

“What the hell did you do for the crown prince to be deemed a traitor?”

He immediately regretted asking, when he saw how quickly Zuko’s eyes fell, how rapidly he deflated. He waved the question away, shaking his head. “Doesn't matter now. The caveat was that if I capture the Avatar, I can go home.”

“...So that’s why you're so insistent.”

“What, you think I just… want to kill a twelve-year-old?”

“Honestly, it was coming across that way, for a while.”

“You flatter me,” he rolled his eyes, sitting down across from him.

“Oh, so you have jokes?”

Zuko fought the small smile that wanted to curl onto his lips. “When your life is a joke, you pick up _some kind of_ sense of humor,” he shrugged.

Why did Sokka shiver? His smile was so pretty. It was only half there— where the scar hit his lip, nothing moved. It created an adorable little side grin, and he could swear he melted right there.

“Did you have anything you actually needed, or…?” Zuko asked.

“Mm, not really. I'm…” he looked away, sighing gently. “If I'm honest, I was worried about you.” He frowned at the genuine shock on Zuko's face. “Really. I… I dunno. I'm always worried about you. But, you know, now can actually come check on you. And I've got a face to connect you to. Uh, I don't know.”

“That…” he looked down. “That actually… means a lot. Thank you.”

“Heh. I guess it’s kinda annoying. Well, could be, depending on how worried I am I overthink a lot. Like, a lot a lot. My brain doesn't shut off.”

“I get that,” Zuko nodded thoughtfully. “I do that too. Insomnia.”

“What’s that?”

“My head’s hyperactive and doesn't let me sleep. I spend a long time just looking at the ceiling and counting knots in the wood. You know?” He sighed gently. “You know, I mostly just have nightmares, so it’s better this way.”

“I know you do,” he murmured. He slowly reached out to touch his knee. Zuko jumped, but didn't move away. “They're… pretty fucked up, not going to lie.”

“How much do you see?”

“The ones in that kinda stone room with pillars and tapestries, lots of voices and stuff. then the ones where people die. They're… well, I think people you love, right? Like… gloomy girl with buns.”

He looked down. “Mai.”

“She your friend back home?”

“Kinda,” he shrugged. “She was my arranged marriage. They had us engaged when I was like, two. Course, that ended when I got banished.” He reached up to rub the back of his neck. “I still talk to her, if I can find time to write. She’s really the only one back home who doesn't hate me.”

“Did… she know about Jet?”

“Oh, yeah. I think she always knew I kinda liked… well, um.” He shook his head. “She was the one I suggested to date him. It was really just for, well, convenience, I guess. He has connections. He kept us off the street for a while.” He looked aside. “Sex wasn't half bad, either.”

If Sokka had been drinking something, he’d have spit it out. “Sorry?”

Zuko laughed a bit, folding his arms and looking away. “He was a dick, though. I don't think he’s ever dated someone who fights back. You know. I say something he doesn't like, he slaps me across the face, so I give him a switchblade in the wrist.”

“He hit you?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “He stopped when he figured out I wouldn't take it.”

“That is so fucked up,” Sokka whispered.

“Well, not like people who are supposed to love me haven't hit me before,” he muttered, glancing down to Sokka’s hand. It was rather pointed. Sokka frowned.

The warrior looked up at him, slowly letting go. “Can I take off your bandage?”

Zuko scoffed. “Why the hell would you want to do that?”

“Cause I think it’s cool,” Sokka answered simply. When Zuko didn't protest outright, he slowly reached out to the adage, and when he didn't move away, he untied the knot to u ravel them. “Besides, it can't be too healthy to keep it covered all the time. Gotta let it get air. Anything I learned from all of the frostbite and iceburns I got growing up, is to not cover them too much.” He tilted his head, looking over the scar. “You know, it doesn't look as bad as you think.”

“Yeah, it does,” Zuko shook his head, looking away. He reached up to touch the deformed skin of his cheek, closing his eyes. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. “I wish I remembered what it was like,” he began, “to feel safe. I'm always looking over my shoulder. Thinking something’s coming I can't hear or see. Like, when my crew practiced bowwork, and one got a little close on my left, and I had a full on breakdown. It was the worst, having everyone on the boat know how easy it was to get me to freak out.”

“...shit,” Sokka sighed. With slow, deliberate movements, he let his fingers brush the scar, watching him flinch. Sokka gave an apologetic smile. “It's kind of badass, though. Kinda hot.”

That actually made Zuko snort with laughter, his hand covering his mouth. He looked down, shaking his head. “Fucking liar.”

“Nay!” Sokka grinned. “Trust me, man. Scars can be attractive as hell.”

“Weirdo,” he hummed. The warrior grinned ear to ear, practically beaming. He squeezed his cheek gently, his hand dropping from his face to his shoulder.

“That’s me. You got stuck with one of the weirdos.”

“How lucky.” Zuko leaned against his hand, relishing how gentle he was. There was no harshness, no quick movements. It was nice.

Maybe having a soulmate wasn't so bad.


	11. Blackout

Zuko woke up… warm.

It wasn’t a particularly unfamiliar sensation. He would wake up to temperatures upwards of forty-five degrees, and still piled under layers upon layers of silk and down when he was back home. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, in that sense. He really did hate how cold it was in the Earth Kingdom (it wasn’t even that cold—but by comparison, it was freezing), so it was nice to have a night warm.

He only panicked when he registered _why_ he was so warm.

There was a heartbeat under his good ear, and a strong arm draped over his shoulder. He’d fallen asleep in Sokka’s arms at some point during the night, which he was worried enough about. He wasn’t exactly sure how he’d ended up here— well, until he spotted an open bottle of sake. That, along with the sour taste in his mouth, was enough to tell him what had happened. That in itself was odd enough. He didn’t remember Sokka doing anything that warranted him to trust the boy anywhere _near_ enough to get even _slightly _inebriated around him, let alone blackout drunk. He guessed, though, if he had drunk enough to forget transpiring events, he’d also forget what exactly made him think it was, in any form of the word, a good idea.__

In any case, his head was pounding far too hard for him to bother moving. Besides, he was comfortable, and if Sokka hadn't killed him by now, he was fairly safe. He groaned quietly, closing his eyes and shifting around so his hip wasn’t digging into Sokka’s thigh.

The movement was enough to rustle the other boy from his sleep, looking down and sighing as he stared. “Mornin…” he mumbled.

“Mm,” Zuko groaned. “Shut up, my head hurts…”

“Yeah, you drank a lot last night. Remember anything?”

“Nah…”

“Ah. I beat you at pai sho, you fell asleep. Nothing much.”

“Mm.” He his his face from the intruding sunlight, sighing gently. He was never one to shy from light, but now, he was just annoyed by it. If only for a moment. “M’cold,” he huffed.

“Stoke yourself a little fire, then.”

“Can’t,” he groaned. “The landlord’ll know n’ report me.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Well, let’s get you up and going, should we?”

“That’s going to suck,” he mumbled. “Did you not drink?”

“I had a glass. But I figured one of us should be sober.”

“And you let the firebender be the one with a bunch of flammable liquid?”

“I trust you.”

“You shouldn’t.”

“Who says?”

“You don’t know me.”

“I think I do.”

“And how do you know that?”

Sokka smiled gently. “Well,” he hummed. “I think I’ve seen you at your most vulnerable. Your dreams, sleep, even. Or those times you came around to get Aang, but you just found me. There was always this look in your eyes of apology. I guess I should have known you were doing everything against your own interest. Ya know? And… I trust that.”

Zuko stared at him for a few moments. And then, “My head hurts too much for this shit.” He pushed himself, groaning at the slight movement and stumbling to the edge of the room. “You… uhh, want tea before you go?”

“That’d be nice, actually.” He unwound himself, getting to his feet.

“Jasmine?”

“Please.”

-

“Where on earth have you been?!” Katara fumed, her arms folded, feet tapping in the dirt. “I’ve been worried out of my damn mind! You can’t just leave without a word!”

“Hey, chill,” Sokka defended, raising his hands defensively. “I was in the city. I didn’t expect to stay overnight, I promise.”

“And what were you _doing_ in the city, Sokka?”

“I think you’re forgetting I’m the older sibling here.”

“You’re nervous,” Toph interjected from where she sat. “What did you do? Were you committing crimes without me?”

“I—”

“Leave him alone,” Aang called. “Leave him alone, okay? He’s back and safe, that’s what matters. Let’s not press.” 

“Were you with the Blue Spirit?” Toph continued nonetheless. Sokka felt his ears go red.

“And if I was? I’m _allowed_ to talk to my soulmate, I think! Besides, it’s a hell of a lot easier to talk to him when you guys aren’t making him paranoid, it’s easier to talk to him _without_ the mask!” He snapped. The lot fell silent for a moment, before Aang spoke again.

“He told you?”

“I— yeah.”

“That’s good,” he folded his arms. “Let me talk to you when you have a minute.”

“What are you guys _talking_ about? You’re being all cryptic,” Toph complained.

“It’s nothing,” Aang hummed. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He waved Sokka over, turning on his heel.

Sokka reluctantly followed, noting they went to the exact same spot as the time Zuko and he had last spoken when at the camp. Aang sighed gently, sitting down in a lotus.

“Do you know why he’s doing this?” Sokka asked after a moment. “Chasing you?”

Aang smiled, closing his eyes. He paused, taking a few deep breaths. “Not really. But… I think I’ve got a good idea. The fire nation now, they’re very good at curating loyalty, blind following from people who don’t know any better than to say ‘yes, and…,’ don’t know any better, cause this is what they grew up with, this is what they know as right and just and true.” He sighed. “I don’t think he’s any different. His father is not a good man. Neither was his grandfather, or… it just seems to get worse as you go back. The sociopathic nature of his bloodline makes him exceptionally susceptible to gaslighting of unquestioning loyalty and nationalism. Not to mention, how he must have been raised, under that harsh authority…”

“That’s, uh… awfully eloquent, buddy.” When Aang opened his eyes, his eyes were fading from a vaguely familiar bright white. Not his tattoos, though. It wasn’t a fight or flight. It was just a conversation.

“What? Oh, sorry. Yeah. Uh, he’s Roku’s great grandson, on his mom’s side. I think. He…” he shook his head.

“His dad banished him,” Sokka blurted. “And he’s only allowed to come home if he catches you.”

Aang smiled sadly. “I thought it might be something like that… it just feels so bad, you know? I know he doesn’t want to. I know he’s a good person.”

“I know,” Sokka huffed, plopping down beside him. “Spirits, I know. He…” he chuckled softly. “He drank a little too much last night. We were just playing a board game. But he got real drunk, and… he’s so happy, when he’s not worried and paranoid and sad. He was laughing and stuff, talking about things that make him happy…” he smiled a bit. “His uncle came with him, when he left the fire nation. They both live in the city. He loves him so much.”

“If someone loves you enough to follow you into banishment, I guess you’d love them too.”

“...yeah.” He sighed, shaking his head. “It kinda hurts, honestly.”

“I guess it would.”

“Do you think we could ever… get through to him?”

“I… maybe. I hope.” He pressed his lips together. “I hope.”


	12. Melancholia

Sokka wasn’t sleeping well lately. It was worse tonight. A lot worse, if he was honest. He chalked it up to the trauma they’d all been through in the crystal caverns that day. . Seeing Aang almost die, seeing Jet _actually_ die (no matter how much he hated the guy)… it was a lot. Like, a lot, a lot.

It was like there was a shift after that, for whatever reason. He wasn’t sure. He just felt different. Like an inexplicable dread… paranoia, but he didn’t know what he was so worried about. He had nothing to _be_ worried about.

He hadn’t seen Zuko in a while. Maybe that was it. He overthought everything, after all. He knew Katara mentioned she’d spoken to him, but wouldn’t elaborate.

He turned over in his blankets, sighing gently. They would move on tomorrow. He wouldn’t have easy access to the city.

There was the sound of a twig snapping further out in the forest.

Then there were footsteps.

And a familiar blue Kabuki mask.

He pushed himself to sit up, smiling sleepily. “You’re okay,” he observed.

“You could say that,” was Zuko’s reply.

“I don’t like the way you said that.”

“I guess you wouldn’t.”

Zuko sat down beside him, pushing his mask up off of his face. “And you? Aang? Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re all fine. We’re okay. Azula fucked Aang up good, but he’s okay.”

“Good,” he took in a breath, looking up to him.

“You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?” He reached up to touch the good side of his face.

“You… you told me you trust me, right?”

“Zuko, what are you saying?”

A sad smile tugged on the prince’s lips, even lifting up on the left. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, shaking his head. “Thank you for… for giving me a chance, but this is probably… this is probably the last time you’re ever going to see me.”

Sokka’s smile fell slowly as he searched the other’s face, hoping to find any, _any_ sign of teasing or joking. “Heh, kinda a fucked up joke, Zuko.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Azula’s waiting for me. She gave me two hours to finish up my business in the city. Keep… keep Aang safe, okay? Keep him under the radar until the comet. Be careful. Do you hear me?” he put a hand on Sokka’s shoulder, letting out a shaky breath. “You did a lot for me, Sokka. Believe it or not, I think I might be dead by now if you didn’t get so insistent about this.”

“What?”

“I was going to… I was going to let Jet kill me, if I’m honest. But I think that would’ve broken you, and… thank you, Sokka.” The two stared at each other for a moment. “Tell Katara I’m sorry. And tell Aang thank you.”

“...You’re going home, aren’t you?” Sokka whispered. “Cause Aang died. And they don’t know he came back.” The prince nodded slowly, looking away. “...Be safe, Zuko. Please.”

“I… I’ll try.” After a beat of hesitation, he leaned close, pressing a shaky kiss to his forehead. Sokka took it and ran for it, tilting his head up to catch Zuko’s lips on his own. He laughed sadly against him, holding his shoulders.

“For good luck,” he joked. “It’s stupid, you don’t even like me.”

“Hey,” Zuko furrowed his brow, shaking his head. “Who ever said that?”

“Call me crazy, but it’s the context clues.”

“I…” who was he kidding? This was quite literally the last time he’d be able to tell him anything. “You gotta understand how my head works. I don’t… I’ve never…just… Sokka, I don’t know how to handle emotions. And besides my mother and my uncle, I’ve really never had anyone show any kind of affection to me. I don’t know how to process it. I don’t _dislike _you. Besides, we were meant to be in love, weren’t we?”__

“I guess we were,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, exactly…?”

“I guess… I thought I could save you, in a way. Get you out of the shitshow you call a life. Away from your dad, from your sister, from Jet…”

“Sokka, I’m too far gone for any of that. I promise you. It isn’t your fault. I was born into this, and that’s all.”

“You don’t have to _stay_ in this, though. You could stay here. Stay with us. Stay with _me_.”

“I would only be a liability.”

“No, Zuko. You don’t get it.”

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled away, replaced his mask, and disappeared into the night.

—

“Why are you moping?” Aang asked as he placed new wood on the fire. The sun was just rising, peeking over the horizon. He looked up, frowning. “Sokka?”

“I…” he whispered, taking a deep breath. “Zuko’s gone, Aang.”

“...what?”

“They think you’re dead. So they took him home. He’s gone.” He reached up to wipe his face of tears. “Shit, Aang. He’s really gone.”

He looked down.

“He’s gone.”


	13. Fuck.

_“I suppose the only way to break them, then, is to crush their hope.”_

Zuko fucked up. Zuko fucked up _badly._

_“I suppose, we just have to take away that gift…”_

He knew his sister was a damned liar. He didn’t know why he was _at all_ surprised at how this turned out.

The newly reinstated prince paced about in his room as he awaited the eclipse. He was incredibly jittery, flinching at each odd creak of the floor, every single scurry of an animal outside his window. The stress he was feeling was absurd. He shouldn’t have come back, he figured that much. He should have listened to his Uncle, he should have listened to Sokka.

Was it just that he had become too attached to the people of the Earth Kingdom whilst masquerading as one of them? Maybe his morals were becoming a little too strong. Wasn’t his father _right?_ Wasn’t this the best thing to do? For the Fire Nation? For the world? When did his doubts about his country’s tactics and morale become so heady?

He shivered as the light of the sun lessened ever so slightly. The eclipse wasn’t what he was worried about right now, no, it was everything else. Shit.

Maybe it was messing with his head. It was certainly possible. Why else would he think it was a good idea to go and spit in his father’s face? Because, right now, that sounded like a pretty damn good idea. To go and ruin him, and leave.

Before he knew it, that was what he was doing.

His hands shook as he tied his tunic closed, letting his hair down and running his hand through it. He should have thought this through, before he just left. But there wasn’t time for that.

He shrugged the sheath of his dao on as he ran down to the safe room. He knew Azula was doing something somewhere else. It would just be Ozai, down there, now.

The echo of his own footsteps was maddeningly loud as he made his way out to the exit, where his father was helpless under the black sun.

Was he even breathing?

Before he pushed open the small door, he stopped, and reminded himself to do so. In, out.

_”I’m ready to face you.”_

Without much warning, he used his foot to open the door, keeping his hand on the strap of his sword. His father was sitting on the far end of the room, surrounded by personal guards, nursing at a cup of tea. He got irrationally upset about that. In his head, tea was really something sacred. Something that Ozai didn’t deserve. Ozai set the cup down as soon as he saw his son, a scowl appearing on his face.

Zuko had to remind himself of why exactly he’d marched down here in the first place. _Because this is what’s right. Because Ozai is wrong. Because he plans to murder thousands of innocents. He plans to murder thousands of innocents, and Zuko could have been one of them. His uncle could have been one of them. Sokka could be one of them._

“Prince Zuko?” Ozai sighed, handing his drink off to a guard. He sat up some more, rolling his shoulders back. “What are you doing here?”

What _was_ he doing here? It was as good of a question as to himself. He paused for a beat, swallowing his nerves down. “I’m here to tell the truth,” he announced, a confidence stable in his voice that was not whatsoever present in his head. Ozai scoffed softly, tilting his head.

“Telling the truth during an eclipse?” he mused, tilting his head with a wry smile. He made a motion to the guards, slowly sending them out. “Well, this should be interesting.”

The guards filed out, one by one, the last pulling the doors shut. “ _My dear son, _” Ozai started, the phrase dripping with a venom that made Zuko’s blood boil. “What could you possibly have to tell me?”__

Zuko cleared his throat, willing himself to stop shaking. He was fine. He could do this. Ozai was powerless right now. He had the upper hand. This wasn’t Zuko against the Fire Lord. this was the Blue Spirit confronting a tyrannical piece of shit. _This is what he did._ “I thought I’d inform you, that in Ba Sing Se, it was Azula who took the Avatar down, not me.”

Ozai raised a brow, almost amused. “Why on earth would she lie to me about that?”

“She lies about everything,” Zuko chuckled, tilting his head. “But, namely… The Avatar isn’t dead. He survived.”

“...What?” Zuko adored seeing panic overtake his father’s features. It was delicious. He only smiled, creating an incensed rage in Ozai’s eyes.

“In fact,” Zuko considered, “He’s probably leading this entire invasion. He could be on his way right now. Isn’t that funny?”

He couldn’t help but flinch when his father rose to his feet, pointing to the door. He could only pray that Ozai didn’t notice it. “Get out!” he fumed. “Get out of my sight, _right now _, if you know what’s一”__

“Ah, ah,” Zuko shook his head, clicking his tongue. “That’s another thing: I’m not taking anymore bullshit orders from you.” Letting his sailor’s tongue slip here, _before his father, nonetheless,_ actually surprised him, but it gave him a boost of confidence, if he were honest.

“You _will_ obey me, or this defiant breath will be your last!” he lashed. Zuko watched as his hand formed in what would be a whip of flame, that was, if he could bend right now. The prince drew his swords, separating them at the handles.

“No, no, think again. And listen to me carefully, Ozai. I am going to speak my mind, and _you are going to listen._ Do you understand me?”

He watched his father slowly sit down, clearly dismayed at the turn of events. Who would have thought Zuko would actually gain some confidence, here?

“For so long, all I wanted was for you to love me, to accept me. I thought it was my honor I wanted, but really, I was just trying to please _you_. _You_ , my father, who banished me just for talking out of turn.” He raised a sword to the other, gritting his teeth. “My _father_ , who challenged _me_ , a _thirteen-year-old boy_ , to an Agni Kai. How could you possibly justify a duel with a child?” he shakily reached up to touch the bandage that covered his eye.

“It was to teach you respect!” Ozai snapped, but Zuko could hear the waver in the back of his throat.

“It was cruel! It was wrong! I grew up, afraid of something I couldn't even control!” he used the tip of his sword to slide under the gauze, sliding it forward to cleanly slice through it. It dropped to the floor, revealing his eye. For just a moment, Ozai actually seemed horrified, to see what lay under that bandage. Marred, melted, blanched and charcoaled flesh, curling up around a deformed, milky blind eye. He had to smile. “I met my soulmate, did you know that? And you know what he said? He said, ‘It isn’t a coincidence that he burned that eye, is it?’ He couldn’t even believe a father could do that to his own son. And he knew exactly what it meant,” He forced a laugh through gritted teeth.

“He,” Ozai muttered, and Zuko could hear the disgust in his voice. “You have learned nothing.”

“No!” he stepped forward, his sword getting dangerously close to Ozai’s throat.”I've learned everything! And I've had to learn it on my own! Growing up, we were taught that the Fire Nation was the greatest civilization in history. And somehow, the War was our way of sharing our greatness with the rest of the world. What an amazing fucking lie that was. The people of the world are _terrified_ of the Fire Nation. They don't see our greatness. They hate us! And we deserve it!” he spat, pressing his sword against Ozai’s throat. “We've created an era of fear in the world. And if we don't want the world to destroy itself, we need to replace it with an era of peace and kindness.”

Zuko felt his anger bubble, threaten to surface, when Ozai _laughed_. “Your uncle has gotten to you, hasn’t he?”

“Yes,” he gave a wry smile. “He has. And after I leave here today, I’m going to free Uncle Iroh from wherever you bastards are holding him, and I’m going to beg for his forgiveness. He has been a better father to me in the last three years than you had ever managed in my whole fucking life.”

“Oh, my _son_ , that’s just beautiful. Maybe, if you’re lucky, he will pass down to you the ways of tea and failure.”

“ _Stop!_ ” Zuko hissed. “ _Stop… talking. _You can berate _me_ all you please, but if you say one more word of Iroh, I will kill you where you stand. Am I understood?” he growled. “Before I had been so viley interrupted,” he continued, opening his eyes. “I have come to an even more important conclusion, Ozai.” he paused, smiling wryly. “I’m going to help the Avatar. I’m going to help him defeat you. If I’m lucky, he’ll let me watch you die.” __

“Well,” that all too familiar cockiness danced on Ozai’s tongue. They could all feel the sun peeking from behind the moon. “Since you're a full-blown traitor now and you want me gone, why wait? I'm powerless. You've got your swords. Why don't you just do it now?”

“Because, Ozai, I know my destiny, it isn’t to kill you. That’s Aang’s job.” Zuko spun on his heel, sighing gently as he began towards the door.

Ozai rose to his feet, balling his fists. “Coward! You think you're brave enough to face me, but you'll only do it during the eclipse. If you have any real courage, you'll stick around until the sun comes out. Don't you want to know what happened to your mother?”

Zuko stopped in his tracks. He slowly looked back to Ozai. “What?”

Ozai laughed. “My father, Fire Lord Azulon, had commanded me to do the unthinkable to you, my own son, and I was going to do it. Your mother found out, and swore she would protect you at any cost. She knew I wanted the throne and she proposed a plan, a plan in which I would become Fire Lord and your life would be spared.”

“You… were going to kill me?” he whispered.

“Your mother did vicious, treasonous things that night. She knew the consequences and accepted them. For her treason, she was banished.”

“So.. she… she’s alive?”

“Perhaps. Now I realize that banishment is far too merciful a penalty for treason.” he closed his eyes, licking his lips. “Your penalty will be far steeper.” in the blink of an eye, there was lightning. Was the sun back out? Oh, gods. As it struck the ground before him, he was blown back several feet, barely keeping his feet on the ground. He gasped as he felt his whole body light up, crying out in pain.

Somewhere in that pain, however, he managed to take control of the sparking air around him. He slowly raised his hands, redirecting the electricity right back to where it came from.

Seeing his father, that surprised surrounded by flames, it seemed a good time to leave.

So that was just what he did. He turned on his heel, and he ran.


	14. Sorry, sorry.

Zuko knew he had squandered what little trust Team Avatar had in him as soon as he chose the Fire Nation over them. With Sokka, with Aang, and most _definitely_ with Katara. He wasn’t sure where he stood with Toph—he wasn’t sure he stood _anywhere_ with her— Momo never liked him, but he was fairly sure Appa still faintly liked him. In any case, if he wanted to win them over, he felt he needed to prepare a solid line of dialogue to explain himself.

And he was anxious as all hell about it.

He lay beside the fire he built for himself, about two miles out from the Temple. He’d been talking to a damn bullfrog all night trying to calm his nerves and get down what he was going to say.

When he did make his way to the temple, his heart was hammering in his ears. It was even worse than when he had confronted his father. Maybe it was because he actually cared what they thought of him. He was done searching and scrambling for approval from his father. But, the Avatar and his friends? _Sokka?_ He still had a legitimate chance to make things right with them, to get on a better side. He had most definitely started off on the wrong foot with most of them, and the thought of speaking to Katara after what he’d done was… frightening, to say the least.

He found he was intruding mid-conversation. With how terrible his good ear was, he only picked up the end of what Toph said, something about, “...be more worried about that.”

All of them turned to look at Zuko. Well, there went any chance of him getting in without immediate judgement. He balled his fists up, his fingernails digging into his palms. His hands were this close to sparking, he could feel it.

“Um… Hi,” he greeted awkwardly. He flinched when Katara immediately got into a fighting stance, taking a shaky breath. He was about to launch into the practiced script, but was cut off when Sokka finally looked at him.

“Zuko!” he exclaimed, running forward. There were hands on his shoulders as the boy checked him over. “Holy shit, buddy, are you okay? Did he hurt you? Did Azula hurt you? Did—”

“I—I’m okay,” He stammered, initially flinching away from the, admittedly, aggressive touch. “You guys, uhm, you bought me some time during the eclipse, and—” he shook his head. “I’m okay.”

“Thank Tui and La, spirits, I thought whatever he did was going to kill you. Hey, look at me, you’re sure? Do you need anything?”

“I’m okay,” he whispered.

“Good,” Sokka sighed, pressing a kiss to his head. Zuko shivered, his shoulders shrugging up as his good cheek flushed bright red.

“I kiss you once, and you think it’s fine to kiss me any time now?” Zuko murmured.

“I was under such an impression, yeah.”

“...Okay,” he mumbled. “Uhm, yeah, you... dammit, I had something I was gonna say. You fucked it up.”

“You seriously practiced what you were gonna say?”

“Yeah, actually,” he grumbled. “I’m not good at—” he gestured vaguely with his hands. “Talking? I don’t know,” he groaned.

“I know,” Sokka hummed. “When’s the last time you slept?”

“Uhhm, I don’t know, uh,” he closed his eyes. “Like, four days ago? Maybe? I’ve been travelling on foot for a while.”

“Jesus, Zuko! Okay, you’re going to bed, we can talk later.”

“Sokka!” He grumbled, pulling away with a huff. “I’m fine—I’m okay. I think I need to apologize first.”

“No offense, Sokka, he’s right,” Aang interjected. “You guys can cuddle, or whatever, after he’s explained himself.”

“Explain what?” Sokka hummed.

“Maybe why he betrayed us and almost got us killed?!” Katara snapped. “Besides, Sokka, what about that whole, uh, soulmate thing? What happened to the Blue Spirit?”

“I, uh,” Zuko raised his hand a bit. “About that… yeah. I’m really, really sorry, Katara. I just… you have to understand, she gave me the chance to go _home_ , to see my family, and my friends… I found out my mom might be alive, I—I,” he shook his head. “I know what I did was horrible. I know. It almost got you killed, and my Uncle is locked up because I… I chose her over him.”

“Wait, your mom might be alive?” Sokka asked.

“He… he banished her, he didn’t execute her.”

“Hold on, why did he banish her?”

“She tried to stop him from killing me. Well, she _succeeded_ at stopping him. She…well, I _think_ , at least, she gave him something to kill my Grandfather. So he could take the throne. And I think he used that to set her up for treason. And I mean, I’m on the treason list now. I kinda...struck him with lightning. Well, he struck _me_ with lightning, and I sent it back, um,” he was rambling. He shook his head, shrugging a bit.

“Is that what that was?” Sokka mused. “Lightning?”

“Felt it?”

“Yeah,” he laughed awkwardly. “Funny thing, I was sort of… holding down your sister, right? Andi just kinda, collapsed? It was probably for the best, she would have roasted me if I hadn’t gotten some distance between us.”

“Well… that’s… good, I guess?”

“Epic.”

“You’re terrible.”

“You love it.”

“You’re pretty cocky.” He stepped away, deciding he’d had a little too much physical contact for now. Sokka didn’t follow. “Aang,” he turned to the Avatar, sighing gently. “He knows you’re alive, well, I guess you would have gathered that much.”

“I did,” he responded carefully. “You came for more than Sokka.”

“You kept asking me to teach you. If… if you trust me enough for that,” he began. Just as Zuko took in a breath, Toph’s eyes snapped up, staring him down hollowly.

“You’re the Blue Spirit,” She observed.

“I am,” he responded quietly.

“Your little nervous gasp,” she hummed. “It’s all I ever hear from you.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Toph, you scare the hell out of me.”

“Thank you,” she nodded.

He watched as Katara’s eyes widened. She looked to Aang, who just shrugged and nodded. Then to her brother, who just gave her a dopey smile.

“Why on earth were you helping us?” she finally asked.

“That’s a moral dilemma that I don’t really wanna… go into.” he reached up, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna be honest, I started it to settle some personal vendettas with certain Fire Nation officials.”

“To kill them,” Katara folded her arms, shifting her weight.

“...Yeah,” he eventually answered. “Yeah, to kill them. It’s funny, though, that it all kinda changed when I started working with the Freedom fighters, even though they had the exact same motive, there. Jet just wanted to kill Fire Nation folks. I guess… seeing it from an outside perspective was…” he shrugged. “Eye-opening? Especially when he tried to kill _me_.”

“How did he even find out?” Sokka asked, folding his arms.

“I told him,” he shrugged. “I trusted him. I thought he had gotten to know me enough as a _person_ , not just a firebender. I was wrong, of course, but…” he shook his head. “It was my fault.”

“It wasn’t,” Sokka assured softly. “You gotta get it out of your head that trust is a bad thing, Zuko.”

“Well, bad things happen when I trust people.”

“You trust me, don’t you? That hasn’t一”

“That’s different,” Zuko clarified. “I don’t _want_ to trust you.”

“But you do?”

“I’m electing not to answer that question.”

“You do.”

“I will filet you, Sokka.”

“Sure you will, sparky.”

Katara cleared her throat rather loudly, tilting her head. “ _Anyways,_ “ she began pointedly, “Aang, I don’t feel comfortable with him being here, especially if he’ll be bending. I just don’t think it’s一”

“Chill out, Kat,” Toph groaned. “Aang _needs_ to learn firebending. And nothing else is working. Zuko’s kinda our last option.”

“She’s right, sweetie,” Aang murmured. “Besides, I think we could take him if he decided to go against us.”

“If he goes against us, I _will_ kill him. Do we have a deal?”

“I think that’s fair,” Zuko shrugged. “I’m fine with dying, at this point一ow!” Sokka cut him off by elbowing him in the ribs.

“We talked about this,” Sokka redminded. “In any case, I’m confident you _won’t_ do anything violent, right?” he asked, raising his brows.

“Well, yeah, but一”

“ _Great!_ Now, you’re going to bed. Come on.”


End file.
